


Until Tomorrow

by ah_maa_zing



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), olicity - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-04
Updated: 2015-06-04
Packaged: 2018-04-02 21:59:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4075306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ah_maa_zing/pseuds/ah_maa_zing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the first fic that I'm posting here - eeks! </p><p>I wrote this all the way back in September 2014, just before Arrow Season 3 aired, and posted it on Tumblr under the same handle. Canon-wise, it sits somewhere after 3x01, if 3x01 had played a little bit differently (Felicity would have been injured more severely after the restaurant explosion, Count Vertigo the second would have met a gruesome end, and Ray Palmer would have shown up a lot later than the first episode. On that character, let's just say that my expectations of him pre-season 3 were very different to the reality). </p><p>This one-shot has been kept largely the same as it was posted back then, with one notable change. Because I wrote this before we knew what the Digglette would be called, in the original fic I had named her Alyssa. In this edited version, I've changed her name to Sara. Other than that and a few minor editing changes (and tightened sentences), the fic is the same as it was then. </p><p>I hope you like it! :)</p>
    </blockquote>





	Until Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic that I'm posting here - eeks! 
> 
> I wrote this all the way back in September 2014, just before Arrow Season 3 aired, and posted it on Tumblr under the same handle. Canon-wise, it sits somewhere after 3x01, if 3x01 had played a little bit differently (Felicity would have been injured more severely after the restaurant explosion, Count Vertigo the second would have met a gruesome end, and Ray Palmer would have shown up a lot later than the first episode. On that character, let's just say that my expectations of him pre-season 3 were very different to the reality). 
> 
> This one-shot has been kept largely the same as it was posted back then, with one notable change. Because I wrote this before we knew what the Digglette would be called, in the original fic I had named her Alyssa. In this edited version, I've changed her name to Sara. Other than that and a few minor editing changes (and tightened sentences), the fic is the same as it was then. 
> 
> I hope you like it! :)

He was driving her mad. 

Felicity took a deep breath and counted down from ten. Oliver had been pacing the length of the Foundry for the last fifteen minutes - up and down, again and again, his footsteps grating against her nerves with their continuous tap-tap-tap, until she thought she might actually stab him in the leg with one of his own arrows, just so he would stop moving. 

“Talk to me, Felicity. How’s the search going?”

“About the same as the last time you asked,” she said tetchily. He gave her one of his “this is my intimidating face” looks, which had become more and more frequent in recent months. There was a time she’d have called him on it, but lately they’d gotten good at avoiding any conversations that could be considered remotely of the “personal” variety, and she didn’t want to be the one to break that streak. 

Instead, she danced her fingers along the keyboard gracefully, setting up a series of complex commands for the computer to recognise and execute. Once done, she pushed her chair back and stood up. 

At the sound, Oliver stopped pacing. 

“What are you doing?“ he said, coming up to stand by the table. "We haven’t found Warren yet and — are you going somewhere?”

Felicity gathered miscellaneous items from her desk and tossed them back into her bag. “Well, I’ve set the search up so that it will run all the criteria you listed without me having to sit here all night and watch. I’ve also coded in a request for the system to send an alert to my phone once the search is complete. If we find Jasper Warren’s hideout tonight, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I have plans.”

Careful to keep his voice even, he said “Ah. Going out with Ray again?”

Felicity paused. The last few months had been difficult. On all of them. Ever since the explosion, since her near death experience. The days before had been some of the happiest of her life. She and Oliver had come close, _so close_ , to exploring their feelings for each other. The fact that they even had feelings to explore had come as something of a revelation to her. She’d always known what _she_ felt for him, obviously. But she’d never once expected him to feel the same way. Not until that day on the beach on Lian Yu. When she'd pressed him to explain what he’d said in Queen Mansion, even to give him a chance to take it back, he hadn’t said a word. But his eyes had told her everything. Then, months later in Starling City he’d asked her out on a date, and she’d accepted. For a moment, she’d thought they had the beginning of something special, something wonderful. For just a moment, she’d thought they could be happy. 

Then everything had changed. In the days following the explosion, Oliver had become, not _withdrawn_ as such, but focused in a very singular way - to the exclusion of everything else, including her. He had taken a huge step back from their burgeoning… _whatever_ …and erected a wall between them that was practically made of steel. Sometimes she felt like he’d gone back to being the guy she’d first met two years ago, the stranger who looked like and pretended to be her friend, but whose eyes bore through her like she wasn’t even there. Oh, they still talked. About Queen Consolidated (or Palmer Industries, as it was now known); about Arrow work; about Thea never calling from wherever she was currently backpacking; about the freaking weather. But they were careful not to _really_ talk to each other. He never told her where he went at night after the Arrow hung up his hood. He never asked about her day. She knew he was staying at the Foundry now that Queen Mansion had been repossessed, but she never saw him sleep. They never talked about the date or the discussions, the arguments, the tears that followed. And they **never ever** spoke about Count Vertigo the Second, and what had happened to him.

It helped that Roy had joined the team and could be counted on to fill any awkward silences. Oliver had anyway started spending more time with Roy outside of the lair, under the pretence of training him now that the _mirakuru_ had finally left his system for good, so it wasn’t like he was around often enough for things to be awkward. 

The Foundry was definitely a much quieter place these days, more sombre than it had ever been, especially ever since Dig had gone. His absence had left a hole that was hard to fill, and none of them were inclined to even try.

Then Ray Palmer had come to town, and suddenly Felicity found herself smiling again, drawn to his easy and open humour. She found that she enjoyed the way he didn’t look at her as if she might combust before his eyes, as if she were a fragile piece of glass labelled “handle with care”. She liked that he liked to hear her speak, and laugh, and express opinions. He enjoyed her, and she enjoyed him.

“Actually,” she said lightly, turning back to look at Oliver, “I’m having dinner with John and Lyla.” For just a second - before his face took on that stranger’s mask that he now wore all the time - Felicity thought saw a mixture of expressions flit across his face. She could have sworn she saw relief, perhaps in the knowledge that she wasn’t going out with Ray. She _knew_ she saw a yearning for his best friend. Oliver had an expressive face, if he’d ever allow himself the luxury of it. As she studied him properly for the first time in months, Felicity finally saw what the brief glances she’d been stealing when he wasn’t looking hadn’t shown her: the tiredness that wasn’t only from the day’s work, the tense way in which he held his body now, as if always on high alert, always primed to move. His face was paler than it used to be. He had barely eaten before, but it seemed to her now that he was somehow running purely on fumes. It looked like he was punishing himself.

She could hardly stand it.

Compassion - _love_ \- rose within her the way it always did when it came to Oliver: whole, pure, filling her to the core with warmth. Her temper faded. 

“Hey”, she said softly. “Wanna come along?”

He looked surprised. “I’m not…I wasn’t invited.”

“And when has this ever stopped you before? Oliver, you and Dig need to talk. It’s past time. Don’t say you don’t miss him because I know you do. And I know he misses you. You’re both just too stubborn to admit it. Besides,” she said brightly, ”you haven’t seen the baby in months. She’s at a really cute age. And he’s hardly going to turn his daughter’s godfather away when he sees you standing at his door, is he?”

Holding out a hand, she beckoned. “Come on. Let’s go see Dig.”

—

Dig and Lyla had bought a bigger place together after the Digglette (as Felicity still insisted on calling her, much to Dig’s amusement) had been born. Oliver had never been to their new home, although of course he’d kept tabs on them from afar. 

As the elevator doors pinged opened and Felicity stepped out, Oliver hesitated again. "Felicity…I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

She looked at him then: this brooding, powerful, courageous man. Her superhero. Despite the barriers he had insisted on raising between them, she couldn’t help the quick grin that stole across her face. He wasn’t so tough, this guy.

Tongue firmly in cheek, she said, “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.”

He did that scrunchy thing with his eyes that she loved so much. “Like what?”

“So…nervous.”

Oh for God's sake. “I’m not ner- ”

“I think it’s sweet. Unfortunately for you, though, it’s far too late to back out now. You know, since we’re here." Saying this, she turned and walked the length of the corridor down to the apartment, leaving Oliver with no choice but to follow.

As he got to the end he saw the door was already open, and he could hear John Diggle’s booming voice.

"Felicity! Hey, you’re right on time. Come on in.”

She reached up for a hug, kissing him on the cheek. “I hope you don’t mind,” she said airily, squeezing past him to head inside the apartment and say hi to Lyla, “but I brought a friend.”

“Oh, Ray’s here? Cool.” Diggle stepped out and poked his head around the corner. “Come on in, man. The more the - ” he trailed off as Oliver reached the door.

“Hi”, said Oliver.

For a moment they stood at an impasse. Neither man moved an inch, and as the silence grew lengthy and more awkward, Lyla rolled her eyes at Felicity and moved to her husband’s rescue.

“Oliver? So glad you’re here. Come on in. Johnny, let him in, for goodness’ sake.”

Diggle stepped back inside and Oliver followed, grateful for Lyla, but silently cursing Felicity. Why had he let her talk him into this?

Keeping his focus on Lyla, Oliver held out the bottle he’d brought with him. “For you. To thank you for having me. Your home is…lovely.” Having relinquished his only weapon, Oliver desperately looked for something to do with his hands. At a loss, he tucked them into the pockets of his slacks, out of sight where their slight tremble would go unnoticed.

For a moment the four of them simply stood, the air steeped in a muggy silence, Dig and Oliver both looking anywhere but at each other. Then, from somewhere in the apartment the baby let out a cry, and suddenly the tension was broken and everyone was moving, Dig towards the child and Lyla towards the bar, where she uncorked the wine Oliver had brought and left it to breathe. 

Felicity smiled at Oliver. Her nod was the slightest of movements, so small that no one else would have even noticed. But Oliver noticed everything about Felicity, even when he tried his damnedest not to. He understood the language of Felicity like it was coming from within him, and he knew exactly what she was telling him.

_It’s going to be okay._

—

Dinner was every bit as excruciating as he’d thought it would be.

Earlier, Felicity had practically leapt to the table and sat down next to Lyla, conveniently leaving the seat next to Dig free for Oliver.

For a time he’d thought he could get away with peppering Lyla with inane questions he had no interest in hearing the answers to. But she was smart, his Felicity, and as soon as she noticed what he was doing, she’d strategically engaged Lyla in baby conversation, so that finally he and Dig had no choice but to either talk to each other or sit in stony silence. Oliver had tried, but it appeared that Dig enjoyed the stony silence, and Oliver’s (admittedly weak) efforts all fell in vain. As soon as dinner was over Dig declared himself and Felicity on kitchen duty in a tone that brooked no argument.

As the kitchen doors closed, Dig turned to Felicity, eyebrows raised.

“What?” she said innocently.

“Don’t give me that. What the hell were you thinking, bringing him here?”

Dig’s big brother tone never failed to amuse her, but for once Felicity remained solemn. “Dig, don’t you think this is getting ridiculous? The pair of you…I was watching you at dinner and I swear, it’s like you’re a couple of nervous teenagers on the blind date from hell. Would it have killed you to have answered some of his questions? Or, you know, say a single word?”

“Felicity - ”

“No. I’m not done. Look, I know he hurt you. He pushed you away. I know how that feels. He did the same to me, remember? And yet I’m still here. _I’m still standing._ You know what he’s like, Dig, what he’s been through. How he copes with pain.”

Diggle pushed off the counter. “And that means I should just stand back and take whatever he throws at me? Let him dictate what I can and can’t do, let him make my decisions for me? Felicity, I do know what he’s like. **I _was_ him**. Five, six years ago. I understand what he’s going through. But that doesn’t give him the right to to impose his decisions on me. Or you, for that matter. I mean, what the hell am I supposed to say to him? It took him four months to even show up at my door, Felicity, and he only did that because you dragged him here.”

Felicity sighed and rubbed her temple, where a headache was brewing. She’d tried for months to get Oliver and Diggle to talk, to argue, to… _anything_. She knew she’d keep trying until it worked, but boy, was it a pain in the ass dealing with two men as stubborn as these.

"I think…look, I think he regrets the things he said, some of them anyway. But you know that admitting he’s wrong is strictly against Oliver’s religion. Instead he’ll suffer in silence, punish himself for the things he said and the things he didn’t. He struggles with the words, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t feel. He loves you, John. He just doesn’t know how to say it.”

Dig let out a breath, allowing it to leaven his temper, which had already dropped significantly some time during dinner as he’d listened to Oliver’s pitiful attempts at conversation with silent amusement. "So you’re saying it for him?” His voice softened. “You really are a gem, Felicity. I hope one day soon Oliver realises how lucky he is to have you in his life.”

Felicity’s smile was hesitant and a little sad. “Whether he does or not, that’s for me to worry about. You just need to worry about your relationship with him. Talk to him, forgive him. Be his big brother, just like you are mine. He needs you. I need you.” Her smile turned mischievous. “I need my guys back together. You have _no_ idea how much I miss your sass when I see Oliver and Roy trying to outdo each other with the whole competitive brooding thing. They’re so Nolan it hurts. You’re the only one who understands my pain. Save me from this torture, Dig, I beg of you.”

—

Oliver stood on the balcony, leaning against the railing that overlooked the city he knew so intimately. Though he saw it every night - the dark corners, the shadows that lurked in abandoned alleyways - from up here, it looked far more peaceful. Just people going about their business, meeting friends, having fun, falling in love. If only they knew what it cost him to keep it that way. How heavy that burden sometimes felt. If only they understood how much he’d had to give up so that they didn’t have to.

He sensed the doors behind him slide open, but didn’t move from his perch. 

Dig stepped forward, bringing with him two tumblers carrying thimbles of whiskey. He passed one over to Oliver and raised his own in a silent toast to the city before knocking it back in one gulp. 

Oliver sipped on his more slowly, wanting for once to savour that rare buzz. The amber liquid burned his throat, and he welcomed its warmth.

They stood in companionable silence for a few beats before Dig spoke.

“You look like hell, Oliver.”

For some reason, Oliver seemed to find this hysterical. For the first time in months, he found himself laughing. The sound of it - the vibrancy - surprised even him, which only made him laugh harder, and before he knew it he was doubled over clutching his waist, desperately trying to catch his breath.

“Yeah, no kidding,” he said finally, once the laughter stopped. “I feel like hell.” He sighed and rubbed a palm across his face, trying to scrape away the shadows. “God...John. I’m…I’m sorry. For everything I said, everything I did. You have no idea how hard these last few months have been. I’ve tried to do it alone. I’ve tried so hard. But…I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore, or why. I feel like I’m lost, like I can’t see through the fog.”

“Oliver, I tried telling you this - exactly this - four months ago. You were wrong then and you’re wrong now. You think I don’t know what you’re going through, that I can’t relate. But I know - better than anyone, probably - exactly what is going on with you. _I used to be you,_ man. In Afghanistan. After. The kinds of things I saw, that I did. You think that doesn’t take a toll on a man? When I left the world was whole. When I came back, I could barely recognise myself in the mirror.”

He turned away from the city to look back through the glass doors of his home, the home he’d made with Lyla. As Oliver did the same, his eyes gravitated to where Felicity was sat on the couch, playing with baby Sara. She danced her fingers along the crib playfully, the baby’s alert eyes following the movement. The baby giggled and threw her short arms into the air, trying perhaps to bat her fingers against Felicity’s. Oliver didn’t blame her.

Felicity picked Sara up out of her crib and hugged her close, cooing, whispering words in her ear, kissing her cheeks.

The sight stole Oliver’s breath away. For a second he allowed himself to imagine, to dream. His knees felt weak, his breathing shallow and laboured.

Ever perceptive, Diggle noticed the change that came over Oliver and realised what held his attention so deeply. She had done something for him tonight, Dig thought. Something selfless, born out of love. Dig was damned if he wouldn’t do the same for her.

"She loves you, you know.”

Oliver didn’t answer, couldn’t answer, his focus on her so absolute.

Undeterred, Dig continued. “I know you think you’re doing her a favour, keeping her out of danger by staying away from her. But what you’re actually doing is hurting her. You can’t see it, because you won’t look at her, but I see it every time I see her, the cracks that are so tiny as to be almost invisible. The worry she carries for you in her heart, the sadness she rarely allows anyone to see. She doesn’t babble anymore, Oliver. She barely even smiles, and when she does its just to keep from crying.”

“She’s better off without me.” He whispered the words, hating the fact that even he found it difficult to believe them.

“Not true. Do you honestly think the bad guys will stop coming, Oliver, just because you declared a moratorium on your relationship with her? Do you think they’ll take one look at the pair of you and not see exactly what you’re hoping they won’t? That you share a bond that can't be broken?” When Oliver didn’t answer, Dig realised he’d missed a crucial piece of the puzzle. “Or is it that you think you’re the bad guy? _You_ are what you’re protecting her from, right?” Dig shook his head in disbelief. “She was right. Again. You are punishing yourself.”

Bile rose in Oliver’s throat, threatening to choke him. "I killed the Count. The second one. No, that’s not quite right. I _**murdered ******_him.”

Dig sighed. Here it was, finally. “I know. Do you think I blame you for it? Or judge you? You did what you had to do, Oliver. And after what he did to Felicity - I would have done the same.”

Oliver looked at his friend. “After Tommy died, I made a promise that I would try to be the kind of man that he wanted me to be. That I would stop the killing. Felicity, she…she always believed in that. In me. I killed twice after making that promise. Both times, the Count. Both times, for her. The first, it…it was an instinct, a reflex to stop him from hurting her. The second was vengeance, pure and simple. She was on crutches for _weeks_ after the explosion. _**She nearly died**_. I swear to you Dig - I’ve never felt rage like that before. Pure and black and so strong that it blinded me. I couldn’t have tamed it if I'd tried. Knowing that I almost lost her…knowing what I could do - would do - for her. It terrified me.”

Dig placed a hand on Oliver’s shoulder. “I know a little something about that. About the monster that’s inside of you, scrambling and clawing and beating its way around your body, fighting to get out. To cause pain and destruction. That black rage you talked about - that’s the monster’s blood, pumping its way around your heart and through your veins. You try to chain the monster up, to push the impulses down so deep into your body that they burn a hole through your stomach. You think that by pushing her away now, she won’t be around when that monster finally breaks loose.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow, and Dig shrugged. “Why do you think Lyla and I broke up in the first place?”

Oliver attempted a smile. “So what you’re saying is, give it five years or so and everything will work out? I’ll be normal again?”

Diggle chuckled. “Oh, I don’t think either of us are normal material, Oliver, but that’s okay. I’m here to tell that what you’re feeling isn’t a permanent state. It will go away. I’ve said this to you before, and I’m gonna say it again because it bears repeating. You’ve got a choice. You can try and stare down that monster on your own or you can allow the people who love you to help pull you out. On your own, yeah, maybe you’ll fight it but it will take a hell of a lot more time and pain. In the end it’ll probably destroy you. But if you allow your friends, your family, your loved ones to help…well, isn’t that what all this is about? Isn’t that what we’re fighting for? I understand that losing Tommy and losing your mother has made you wary, and afraid. But death isn’t the only way to lose a person, and I’m worried that if you allow it, sooner or later you’ll lose everyone around you who cares about you. Including her. And then you’ll be truly lost. The monster would win. 

No man is an island, Oliver. Not even you."

Oliver closed his eyes. The truth in Dig’s words cut through him like a sword, slicing away at the last remnants of the shield he’d built him around himself. These past few months without Diggle, without Felicity, had been torturous. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to do it. It was different from when he’d started. In the beginning he knew he had to go down this road alone. He’d expected the loneliness, the pain. Welcomed it, even. It was so much harder to go back to that having known another way. Looking through that window now, into a life that he’d once hoped he could have, Oliver wondered whether he’d been kidding himself all along. 

"It’s too late.” He pushed away from the balcony. “She’s with Ray and -”

“She’s not with Ray.” Dig muttered something under his breath, something that sounded suspiciously like a prayer for strength. Oliver turned to look at him with enquiring eyes. 

“She’s friends with him, they’ve been out on dates, sure. She likes him, but she hasn’t made him any commitments. You know our girl. She doesn’t rush into things. Besides,” Dig said, “I think her heart’s engaged elsewhere.”

Oliver blew out a breath. And considered. 

“Oliver, you once told us that love is the most powerful emotion. Up till now you’ve been looking at love like it’s dangerous, volatile. Like it will take a hold of you in the way a parasite would, and squeeze and crush you until you explode. But love is not a chemical reaction or an explosion. Love is a steady stream, gentle and tender. It flows on for eternity, never demanding, never eroding. Love is life, my friend, and you _really_ need to learn how to live.”

Oliver smiled. “You’re a good friend, Dig.” 

Dig chuckled. “Yeah, don’t I know it. Now go, for goodness sake, and let me and Lyla put our baby to bed. I’m gonna need an early night anyway if I’m planning on re-joining Team Arrow again tomorrow.”

Oliver winced. “Please, let’s not make that a thing. We only just got her to stop saying it.”

“Whatever, man. I think it’s cool.”

Oliver grinned. “We’ll see how cool you think it is when she turns up with custom t-shirts we all have to wear. I’ll see you in the morning, Diggle. We’ve got work to do.” He held out a hand, which Diggle ignored as he stepped forward to hug his best friend. 

—

As they left the apartment side by side, Oliver and Felicity were both silent. Felicity wondered whether she’d made a mistake in bringing Oliver here. Though she’d seen John slip outside to talk to him, she hadn’t been able to hear what they were saying, and anyway baby Sara had so adorably captivated her that she would have had no idea if Dig and Oliver had broken out in a violent fight. 

Good thing they hadn’t, at least by the looks of it. She cleared her throat. 

“So. How’d the evening go for you?”

“Hmmm?” Lost in thought, Oliver blinked and turned to look at her. God, she really was beautiful. And he was an idiot. 

She rolled her eyes. “The evening. You know, the big make-up scene with Dig. Are you two friends again or am I going to have to get the heavies at ARGUS to lock you both in some super secret dungeon - not the one on Lian Yu, naturally, I’m not a monster - until you’ve both come to your senses and worked things out? I have some pull at ARGUS now, you know.”

Oliver smiled. “You can stand down with the threat of Lyla, thanks all the same. Dig and I are cool.”

“Oh. Good.” She sounded disappointed, and he couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You’re thinking about me and Dig in a super secret dungeon fighting it out to the death now, aren’t you?”

She twisted her lips in a mock sneer. “Well, yeah. There’s mud involved, and of course there are no shirts allowed in this dungeon - totally against the rules - and there’s a lot of sliding around, on account of the aforementioned mud and - I’m just going to stop now." 

"Good,” he said, loving her with an undying fierceness. Had he really imagined he could live without her, without this? Had he really been arrogant enough to believe that he could _breathe_ without her? As they stepped outside into the still warm night, he took a look around him, once again seeing the city he loved so much. This time, though, despite the lateness of the hour he didn’t see the same darkness he always did. The shadows had slid back until they folded into themselves and disappeared. Maybe it was her effect, because the stars were burning brighter than they ever had before, lighting up the night with a warm glow that appeased his soul. 

John was right. The monsters would keep coming. That was the life he’d chosen - they’d chosen - and that was the way it had to be. For the first time in months, he was okay with that. Because he knew that he had something to live for - his friends, his family. His love. He’d tried once before to reconcile that part of him with the part that yearned for a normal life. Maybe he’d needed to be reminded again; to see the way that Diggle and Lyla had built a beautiful life out of the horrors they’d both once faced, that they continued to face. Maybe he hadn’t believed that he deserved that kind of life, that the purity of Felicity’s heart would be corrupted with blackness if she gave it to him. 

Maybe he would never stop needing to be reminded. Ever since his return from the island he’d been drifting - from one cause to another, from one loss to another. Maybe all he needed was to stand still, to let that gentle wave of love come to him, wash over him and make him whole. Maybe that’s how people did it: stopped and stood still with their arms outstretched, welcoming love. He could try it. The Arrow may not need love but Oliver Queen did, and he was beginning to understand how intrinsically the two were linked. Denying a part of himself was allowing the monster to reign free. He couldn’t allow that any longer. 

He turned to face Felicity, who was staring at the screen of her phone. 

“I just got the alert,” she said, waving the phone around. “We found Jasper Warren’s safe place. Um,” she shook her head. Her brain came up with the weirdest ways to say things. “You know what I meant there. Right?" 

"Sure. You found where he’s hiding.”

“Yep. So…” she looked at him expectantly. 

“So…what?”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “So…I assume we’re going to the lair? Aren’t you going to suit up and go put the fear of God in this guy for stealing millions of dollars of taxpayers’ money?”

He took a deep breath and smiled. “He can wait. He’s not going anywhere tonight, right? We’ll pay him a visit tomorrow. It can be a welcome back present for Dig.”

Felicity frowned. Was that… _a joke?_ He was being weird again. 

Oliver looked at his watch. The expression on his face turned serious. He took her hand in his. Wrapping his fingers around her delicate ones and pulling them up to his mouth, he kissed them softly, one by one. 

Felicity shivered, even in the heat of the night. What was he doing? He let her hand drop, and it fell heavily to her side. 

“Oliver - ” she began. 

He shook his head. “Felicity.” Then he said her name again, softly, in that way that always made her tingle. His face solemn, he said, “We’ve got an hour and a half to go until midnight. I want…I want to say some things to you; some things that I should have said a long time ago. I want to make up for the last few months of silence. I want us to be open, and honest, with each other. And then, in an hour and a half - _tomorrow_ \- I’m going to ask you something. And I hope your answer will be yes.”

She stared at him, for once completely speechless. He smiled as if he was in control, but his heart was thundering so loudly in his chest he was surprised she couldn’t hear it. 

He held out a hand, as she had done for him earlier. Beckoning her. “Will you take a walk with me?”

Felicity looked into his eyes and saw there what she had seen once before - a long time ago it seemed now - standing on a beach on an island called Purgatory. She smiled. Whatever he was going to say, she knew what her answer would be. What it would always be. 

She took his hand. Together they walked through the city they called home, and waited for tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos saves lives. (Or makes needy fic writers very, very happy!)


End file.
